One Sentence Wonders
by stagetrinity
Summary: A prompt based story holder, based on being given the first sentence for each chapter by reviews. Current chapter up: Arnold finds himself on a hike with Helga through the Jungles of San Lorenzo. They haven't had the best relationship ever since the party of July 17th, senior summer. But maybe a bike of physical exertion and four years pent up anger is all you really need.
1. The ideas

Hey guys! This is a new prompt idea I'd like to do with you guys. But as opposed to just being given a prompt, I'd like you guys to give me a sentence. Any opening sentence you can think of, no matter how random. I'll write a short drabble based on it, and feel free to specify the characters you'd like to be in the drabble. Make you sentence long, short, whatever you like. Other than that, I think this will be fun.

I'm still going to be working on my longer stories, but I like to do one-shots just as exercise and fun, so that's what this is for.

I've included my first drabble chapter already, based on a random first sentence prompt post I got from Tumblr, which was "Are you actually wearing my underwear right now?"

I hope you enjoy.

I'm planning on setting most of the stories in late high school, or even college.

So, let's have fun!


	2. Underwear, Don't care

"Are you actually wearing my underwear right now?" His voice was nothing but high pitched confusion as the question smacked against the back of my head, catching me midstep as I tried to scurry across the room with my own undergarments clutched in my now frozen fingers. I exhaled slowly.

"What, so crass as to skip the hello, huh football head?" I chirped with forced cheeriness, trying to summon some scrap of dignity as I turned to face the man of my dreams….as I was standing pant-less in his living room wearing –he was not mistaken- his underwear.

Our eyes met, and at any other time I would have scolded at him for catching me in undergarments, but really, I couldn't blame him. This wasn't something one happened upon every day.

"I know there's a reason for this, but let me preface that question with this one first: Do I want to know the reason?"

He looked adorable, his hand still clutched around the key as it rested in lock, his face flushed from embarrassment. In his other hand a birthday cake was now precariously rested, which did somewhat explain what was going on here. I peered down at the plaid boxers that were handing loosely on my beanpole frame. "I don't know how to answer that," I replied after a moment, meeting his bemused expression with my own deadpan one. He seemed to process my answer, stepping in the door and slowly pushing it closed behind him.

"How about telling me anyway," he said in a surprisingly calm voice as he looked past me to the kitchen. I stepped out of the way, gesturing for him to walk on. With one more brief glance at me, he gave me a wide berth as he passed.

I sighed, trying to figure out the best way to go about explaining my mishap. This wasn't how I had expected our first meeting in over a year to go. I was supposed to look hot and seductive on 21st birthday, not get caught half naked in by Arnold in his apartment two hours before he was supposed to even get home!

"Is there somewhere I can sit first?" I asked cautiously, feeling like I might as well as permission for something. He pointed over at the table nestled in the corner of the kitchen. I straightened my posture before plodding over the old linoleum, at least confident in the fact my boobs looked fantastic in my new pushup bra – despite not having the matching undergarments to go with it. Even though the bra was hidden beneath a tattered batman t-shirt.

I sat down heavily, trying not to groan.

"Nice to see you again. It's been what, a year since my last birthday?" I joked casually, trying to lighten the mood before delving into my story. Instead of waiting for a reply, I found myself just delving right in.

"Okay, so basically I went to Phoebe's apartment when I got in, like is per protocol for the past, what, three birthdays now? Well, basically like I always do when I come down for my birthday weekend. So I get there, and I take the elevator up like I always do and there's this….this snotty little kid just standing in the elevator! Where were his parents? Of course I asked him this, and he's just standing there snorting snot back in his nose and sucking on this juice box like a fucking moron," I blurted, throwing my hands up in frustration at the whole incident. I could see Arnold shaking his head as he went about straightening little odds and ends on the kitchen counter. "So anyway, like I said, I asked him and he just ignored me. So whatever, I ignore him as well, just casually holding my duffle bag when all of the sudden he lets out this monster sneezing fit which just like, projectiles snot and juice all over me. So I'm covered in snotty drippy juice, okay? I didn't even have time to shield my exposed arms and face." I paused to gauge his reaction as he sat down across from me at the table, sliding an unopened bottle of Yahoo to me.

"Go on," he prompted in a voice that had become nothing but pure unbridled sexiness when it met puberty. The idea that his…well his so called loins had brushed the fabric now brushing me made me glad I was seated. I fought the bottle open with sweaty palms.

"So I rush to Phoebe's apartment, in total shower mode. I let myself in with my spare and find a note taped on the bathroom door telling me the waters shut off for maintenance." I did a few air quotes for emphasis. "So I call her up, explain how I'm a snot volcano victim, and she told me if I wanted to take the emergency key for you and Gerald's apartment, I could shower and get ready for dinner here. Gerald was fine with it, and they said you'd still be at work for another couple of hours so not to worry about bothering anyone. Phoebe said she'd be off work around the same time and we'd finish the rest of getting ready back at her place."

"So you came here to shower," he repeated, his face looking as if he were trying not to laugh at the

Idiot across the table a/k/a me. "Still, doesn't explain my original question."

"I was getting there, Arnoldo," I shot back, my cheeks beginning to burn from the judgement. "So I go pop in the she shower, freshen up, to my thing, and I put on the spare clothes I brought with me. I left my actual bag at Phoebe's with my clothes for tonight still in it, since she said she wanted to get ready there," I reminded him. "So, I've just got myself into my comfy clothes and go to gather up my snot covered..things. Here I am, strolling out the door to deposit everything in my car when, my bad luck patron saint reared his head for a second helping and so nicely basked me in the glory of mud from the gutter as a passing douchebag happened to kiss tires with it. It rains way to much here," I complained. "So there I was, standing in my on moments ago clean shirt, now covered in brown sludge, with my already dirty clothes even dirtier. So my brain says, 'Helga, you've got two hours, and there's no way you can get in your new..well newish car, covered in drippy mud. Go rinse again and quick wash clothes.' So I tossed all my outer wear in the laundry and ran to bathroom to shower – again. Sadly, shorts didn't really protect my bottoms from muddy siege – I was gonna just see if there was something I could wear in Gerald's room, but it was locked, and there was no way I was walking around bare assed if someone showed up. Case and point," I concluded, releasing a heavy sigh. I brought the bottle to my lips and chugged.

It was quiet for a moment, then his laughter echoed around the apartment. "On the bright side, being 21 means you can buy enough drinks so you can forget the mishaps even happened," he managed to get out, giving me a wink. "You're something Helga. Consider the underwear a bonus birthday gift."


	3. Don't do that

Thanks for the response you guys! Glad to log on and have five prompts already. And I'm glad you guys enjoyed the birthday ;D I just used a generator and numbered the prompts and ended up with three, which is Marie Allen's prompt. (I think I'll keep using the generator way until I run out, so don't feel like I'm skipping.) I know you suggested them as adults in the Jungle, so I figured I'd give that a go! But probably picture them straight outta college. This one is a bit more bittersweet this time.

* * *

If anything was true about Helga, it was that telling her not to do something was a sure way of making sure she did it - and this was no exception. The moment the words had left my mouth, I knew I had made a mistake in the form of a challenge. Her eyes had narrowed at me from across the rickety old table, and I had no doubt that she could overthrow the dingy thing with no more than a flick of her wrist, leaving me in a heap on the floor. I really should have known better, and the sigh that escaped my mouth as I heard the pounding on the door was more one of resigned acceptance than annoyance; I had done this to myself.

It has all started yesterday afternoon as the four of us sat around the small table in the small hut I'd taken up residence in during my study in San Lorenzo. I'd graduated only a few months before with my Bachelors in Archaeology, and it'd seemed the logical next step toward furthering my career (as well as catering to my personal interests) was to make a proposal to do some study on the Green Eyed People of San Lorenzo and make this trip while I was still able to get grants to fund it. Luck had landed me my wish, and two months later a plane had landed with my friends to visit and make sure I hadn't wasted away into a husk of myself.

And I hadn't, surprisingly. I had been afraid myself when I first started my searching, that I'd become so engrossed in the mystery of my parents that I'd disappear along with them. But the people in the area were surprisingly hospitable and I had very little to worry about.

But that's a deviation from the 'Hiking' comment. Sitting around, casual enough, sipping drinks with Gerald and Phoebe. Helga was way past the just sipping point, which may explain why when I mentioned I had already scheduled a hike for the following day before I knew they were visiting. I told them there were plenty of places for them to explore that were close and touristy. My hiking route would be one that was too dangerous for them. And for whatever reason, Helga just knew somewhere in her heart that I had been saying, "Helga, you can't come with me. Don't even think of coming."

Which leads us to this crisp 7 a.m. of a Saturday morning with Helga pounding on my door, more or less coming. I slung my pack over my back and adjusted the straps.

She was standing there with a measly backpack of her own dressed in a tank top and cargo shorts, sipping a small cup of coffee.

"You really shouldn't drink too much coffee before the hike," I instructed, darting a glance in the cup.

She glared back before making a show of draining the liquid. "Whoops, my bad," she said with mock innocence. "Didn't know."

I rolled my eyes, pulling the door shut behind me. Just remember your goal for the day, I reminded myself. There's a possibility of a crashed plane over the mountain with a strong possibility it had belonged my parents. Just think about your parents. So I plastered on a smile and managed, "No big deal." You're just gonna have to shit later.

I started down the dirt road, trying to keep my focus locked ahead and ignoring the crunch of the extra pair of feet as they fell into pace with my own.

Maybe I should take some time to explain mine and Helga's relationship; it's pretty strained these days. High School for us had been a mutual friendship since our two best friends began dating. We'd go out as a group most weekends, and those times weren't so bad –not with the buffer of Phoebe and Gerald. But then came the summer after graduation, where things had gotten, well, a little screwed up. There were lots of parties going on thanks to Rhonda and her last summer in Hillwood, and a lot of us would be leaving at the beginning of August, so we all wanted to spend as much time with each other as we could. It's was the party of July 17th that sticks in my memory, since this was the house party minus parents, but plus alcohol provided by Rhonda's new and legal aged boy of the month. And it was everywhere. I don't normally drink that much, and I wasn't really looking to get any sort of drunk that night. I wasn't.

But potato vodka is virtually tasteless in strong enough punch, and you can't go back once you've had four cups and can't figure out why you want to say things you really shouldn't. Which I did…namely to Helga. I don't remember much else about that night other than waking up the following morning with a face sporting a nice red mark resembling a hand. I don't know what I said, and she never would tell me. But whatever I said had instilled in her some great need to defy me at everything I said, even more so than she had before. It was like opposite day, don't is do and do is don't. We'd seen each other the past summers, and it had left me nothing but sour after our excursions.

A rustling broke my thoughts, and I glanced over to find Helga casually devouring a bag of potato chips. I tried to not sound annoyed as I asked, "Eating stuff like that is going to tire you out before we even get started." Defiant munching. This time my groan was in annoyance.

Our hike continued much in silence for the first three hours, and I could see Helga looking a bit strained. I knew I would have made much more progress doing this on my own, but I tried to quell my anger. "How about we take a break?" I said casually heading over to a small area that was mostly clear of brush. I slid out of my bag and shook my shirt to help air out my sweaty torso.

"Well, if you insist," she replied, quickly dropping her bag with a thud and plopping down heavily. I could see the sweat trickling down the side of her face and where it was running from her neck down into her – I quickly averted my gaze. "How far do we have left?"

I unzipped the side pouch of my bag, pulling out a tattered photograph as well as my sketchy map. "If we keep this pace, maybe another three hours. So we're about halfway."

She glanced back in the direction we were heading, with the incline getting steeper and the brush thicker. "Easy Peasy," she croaked.

I raised my eyebrow, refraining from my urge to tease her. Instead I freed my small ponytail and shook out my hair, slightly longer than normal from my lack of cutting these past few months. I lifted the back off my neck, enjoying the cool breeze that happened by. I looked up to find Helga staring at me oddly, but she looked away quickly as she caught my gaze.

"What?" I muttered. "You going to make fun of my hair too?"

"Psh, of course not," she replied, her fingers keeping busy pulling up small blades of grass.

"Well that's a first."

"Oh come off it, I don't always make fun of you."

I interrupted with, "Football head, Arnoldo, Geekbait, the skinny jeans of Senior Summer-"

"You looked like a squished sausage, I was doing you a favor!"

"They were a gift from Lila, I was being a good boyfriend."

"Well she was a sucky as hell girlfriend to you!" she snapped suddenly, her eyes flashing. I was momentarily speechless, not sure how to handle the sudden hostility.

"I'm…sorry? I wasn't aware it bothered you," I said cautiously, opening a bottle of water to busy my hands.

"Of course you weren't," she muttered, rolling her eyes. "You were too high on cloud nine to see it. You know, she didn't even like you. She only dated you that year because of your stupid cousin when he transferred over."

I felt my cheeks flush, but it was something in the past now. "Well, maybe so, but that was like four years ago. We broke up before college started. Nothing from that summer is really important," I shrugged.

"Yeah, I know it's not to you. You said so back then after you kissed me."

I sputtered my water, and she looked at me with pure venom. "I'm sorry, what? Kissed you?"

Her face faltered, but soon resumed its hard expression. "Come on, stop acting like you don't remember. I endured it the first few times you asked because I had better things to do, but Criminy, stop trying to hide behind your fake innocent talk."

"I really don't know what you're talking about!" I protested, wracking my brain. "When?"

"At Rhonda's party," she grumbled, crossing her arms as she leaned back into her bag.

"More specific."

"I don't know, one in like mid-July."

"July 17th? The drink party?" I speculated. "The one that you got mad at me over for-?" the no reason dropped from my mouth as I took in the hurt look in her eyes.

"You did it when you were drunk," she said quietly, her face contorting into a somewhat pained expression. "You were fucking drunk! You, of all people!"

"I didn't mean to be! I didn't know the punch was spiked!" I protested, now feeling that I didn't want to know what I had only been asking about for almost 4 summers. "That's why I've been asking every summer."

"I should have known," she groaned, leaving back and covering her face with her hands. "You would only kiss me if you were drunk. I should have known."

"But that's it? That's why you've been so defiant against me?"

She laughed harshly. "Hardly. Since you seemed to have blocked the memory from your mind, yeah, you kissed me on the balcony while we were talking about leaving for college and not being forced to hang out. You just, bam, lip captured. And I don't know, I really wanted it. I thought that meant I was more to you than just some forced acquaintance you spent Friday's with. You kissed me hard, and sweet, and you pulled me close and whispered in my ear, 'Don't tell Lila.'"

I felt a guilty disgust writing in my stomach. "Helga, I-"

"Don't get antsy, I pushed you away. And oh yeah, I went and told her. But to be honest, she didn't really care so I don't feel like I had any effect on that breakup. So I've been getting a savage enjoyment every time you tell me to not do something.

"I'm so sorry," I groaned, rubbing my palms against my eyes as if to rub out a memory I didn't really have. "I know it doesn't mean anything now, but I am so sorry. I know it's really late, but I- I feel like such am awful person."

"Well yeah, you should. I was fragile," her voice had a bit of her teasing lilt back. "But hey, you can just keep trying to make it up to me."

"How?"

"You'll figure it out eventually, I suppose," she responded, back to her fixation on the grass.

"Don't feel like you have to forgive me just because I feel bad," I explained. "I'll earn it."

"Let's start with you not telling me what I'm not supposed to do, okay, football head?"


	4. Pantie Raid

Golden Lunar Eclipse suggested this one! So without much ado, let's go ahead with this one! It's not my best, but I wanted to flex a slightly different style and still leave some elements up to reader interpretation. So take it how you will :) I'm still working on the next chapter of "My Fair Pataki," but with more focus on "It's Legend," which I hope to post soon.

" "You want me to WHAT?"

Gerald to Arnold about something involving Helga (AxH)."

* * *

"You want me to WHAT?" Gerald yelped, his voice laden with surprise. The laughter of his roommates echoed around him. "Seriously?!" The laughter became even more raucous as the clinking of shot glasses clattered against the rickety wooden table that took up almost half of the tiny kitchen.

Arnold nodded eagerly from across the table, his untamed blond locks bobbing wildly. Gerald tried not to sigh at his friend so far gone after only a few hits of alcohol, but Arnold was a good kid and rarely even took part in the drinking games Gerald so often played with Stinky and Harold. He wasn't even intending to play tonight, but cream soda mixed with butter shots was a sneaky drink with its enticing sweetness that won you over before you realized how much alcohol you'd actually had. A cup of that had been slipped to Arnold as he sat on the couch, surrounded by his textbooks. They still had a week till finals, and they boys needed to unwind. No amount of arm twisting was convincing Arnold – but the prospect of a new cream soda had.

Which was how Arnold had ended up at the table, now shirtless and a bit inebriated, asking Gerald to go down the hall to Phoebe and Helga's apartment and preform a panty raid.

"Oh come on Arnold, I can't get in there without them opening the door for me!"

"Awww, is wittle Gerald afraid?" Harold teased, elbowing Gerald roughly in ribs. "Go knock on the door! Filch something for us and bring us a trophy!"

"Yeah, Gerald, a trophy for the wall!"

"SO what's it gonna be?" Arnold slurred, eyeing Gerald from across the table. "You too scared?"

"I'm not scared!" Gerald puffed his chest out, chugged the shot Harold slid over, then pushed his chair back and stood up proudly. He adjusted his shirt and attempted to smooth over his braids before striding to the door. His hand hovered hesitantly over the knob. The girls lived at the end of the hall in the upperclass apartments. He dared a glance back at the boys at the table, all wearing devious smiles.

"Clear a space – gonna be bringing back some new cups!" Gerald promised, stepping out into the hall and letting the door slam behind him. The hallway was looming before him – and maybe slightly watery – but he managed to get to the sought after door with only minimal help from the wall for balance.

Knock knock knock.

"Yeah, who is it?" Gerald felt a chill up his spine as the harsh voice of Helga Pataki shot through the door.

"It's Gerald! I need to…to borrow some notes from Phoebe for the finals!" he lied. A brief moment of silence before he felt himself heaving a sigh of relief as the door swung open to admit him to an apartment identical to his own – though decorated to suit girls with a much different taste than him.

"Be quick weirdo, she's trying to focus!" Helga snapped, crossing her arms across her chest as she watched Gerald make his way into the common room. He watched her give a quick sniff to the air before narrowing her eyes at him. "If you aren't out in five, I'm going to drag you out. You know I can do it."

"Got it, blondielocks," Gerald snapped back coolie, trying to quell the wavering nervousness in his stomach. He actually liked Phoebe, so he was hoping this would go smoothly.

The boys stared in shocked surprise as Gerald tossed a lacy pink confection onto the center of the table. He grinned deviously, relishing the sudden cheers that erupted around him. "So who's your boy?" He gloated, dropping down heavily into his chair. A few back pats and shots later before Harold burbled, "So how'd you swing this little beauty?"

"Easy now, I have to keep a few trade secrets. Point is, it has been filched."

A few moments later and a knock came on the door, gruff and resilient. "HAIR BOY, OPEN THIS DOOR!"

"Oh shit, scatter!" Gerald hissed, causing Stinky and Harold to scuffle to escape from the table and into one of the back bedrooms with panicked expressions.

Shaking his head, Arnold opened the door with a smile plastered on his face. Honestly, he'd more or less expected this.

"Arnoldo, outta the way! I need to go lay a fist on hair boy!" Helga hissed darkly as soon as she saw she had an entrance to the apartment. Arnold quickly leaned, pulling the door so it was only open a fraction.

"Good evening to you too. Listen, you can't come in right now. The boys aren't in a good state right now and you'd just make it worse."

"The hell I can't come in!" she retorted, dropping her eyes to the floor. "He took my bra!"

Arnold felt his cheeks begin to burn as he made the connection to the pink lace the boys had darted away with and where it belonged on the girl standing in front of him, wearing a simple tank top and sophie shorts. Her hair was in a messy braid, but still freshly wet from a shower and leaving a streaks of water across her neck.

"That was yours?" he blurted before he could stop himself, mentally cursing his stupidity.

"So he does have it!" She made it as it to dart past him, but her hands hovered just centimeters away from his exposed torso. He noted a blush creep into her cheeks as she quickly pulled her hands away.

"Listen," Arnold muttered, keeping his voice low as he spoke. "There's been…some drinking going on tonight."

"So I can smell," she bit darkly.

"Okay, you need to stop being so rude lately," Arnold hissed back, stepping out into the hall and pulling the door behind him so it was barely open a fraction. He could hear the boys laughing from wherever that had hidden. He couldn't blow his own cover to them. "Listen, I'm not drunk. Almost %100 sober,swear to God, ask me trivia and I can answer coherently."

She eyed him curiously. "I have no idea what you're talking about. I just need my bra."

"I'll get your bra back, if you just promise to not bring this up again."

"You have one minute to try and explain this before I punch you so hard you don't wake up until finals."

Arnold cringed. "Look, I'm trying to get the guys off my back for the next week. They always do this stupid drink week before finals to blow off steam and I never play because I a) don't like the taste of alcohol, and b) I actually need to get good grades to keep my scholarship. Gerald thought he'd be funny and give me cream soda spiked with…something. Like I don't know what cream soda tastes like." He rolled his eyes. "So I went with it. I pretended to get smashed along with them, more or less. I've maybe had two, and then they stopped counting. I figured if I gave them a ridiculous dare – they usually do mild ones-"

"Is that why you're half nude?" she interrupted, gesturing to his chest. Arnold shrugged.

"I can handle shirtless. Don't interrupt, I'll lose track. Anyway, I honestly didn't think Gerald would have any means of success on getting anything from you guys when I dared him."

"You're not helping your case!"

"I didn't think he'd be able to form a coherent sentence when he got there! I was planning on him being a complete fool, and I was sort of banking on you kicking him out before he could do any damage. I was banking on them not trying to rope me into this again because of the absurdity of this situation."

"So," Helga muttered, trying to keep her voice calm as she pinched the bridge of her nose between her thumb and her forefinger. "You're wasting time pretending to be drunk, so you can make the guys embarrass themselves and not ask you to play anymore because of it. But it backfired…and you need to get me my bra back."

"Okay, and I will!" he hushed her, gesturing for her to keep her voice down. "Do you need it like, now? Or can I get to you tomorrow?" Her look was answer enough, and he sighed, "Just….wait here a second." He took a deep breath, slipping back inside the door.

"Hey guys!" he called, adding the annoying edge back to his voice as he headed down the hall. The guys had darted back into Gerald's room and were gathered around the Tv, now distracted by video games. Harold had the bra on his head like a pair of awkward goggles. Arnold shook his head before plucking them off and placing them on his own, turning on his heel and heading back to the hall.

"Aww shucks Arnold, you can't just steal out trophy!"

Arnold simply turned and made a two finger salute before picking up the pace back to the door. He swung it open, quickly brandishing the bra out to Helga, who plucked it daintily from his fingers.

"You're lucky you're cute or this would have ended badly," she chastised, tossing her braid over her shoulder.

"I'm cute?" he asked curiously, tilting his head to the side.

"Eh, slightly. Sometimes. But not when you're stealing bras and invading personal space, pretending to be a drunk doofus to impress your friends. Just when you're being mister vigilante and telling them NOT to come steal my stuff. You know, when you're actually you."

Arnold rubbed his hand awkwardly up and down his arm. "Sorry…I didn't-"

"Just don't let me catch your paws on any of my stuff without permission," she added with a roll of her eyes, waving him off as she started back down the hall.

"What do you mean permission?" he called after her, hanging out the door.

"If you have to ask, you'll never know," she called back, waving her hand in dismissal before disappearing into her own apartment.

Arnold shook his head, very glad deciphering Helga was not a test he'd be graded on. He was never quite sure he'd pass.


End file.
